That Kind of Woman
by Dorkness Rising
Summary: Reposted by sort-of-popular demand. An innocent crew discussion leads to some very strange and disturbing behavior on Nami's part. And Zoro is determined to get to the bottom of it, and uncover the horrifying truth. Nami/Zoro friendship.


Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.

Notes/Warnings: This fic contains very strong allusions to and implications of sexual assault and abuse. If this kind of material bothers you, I strongly suggest finding another story. Special thanks to ginnyseta and akai_senshi for beta'ing, and the former whose RP inspired it.

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That Kind of Woman

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"And then, there are the giant man-eating clams! Oh, those are the meanest critters you can run into on the Grand Line..."

"Usopp...Clams don't have teeth."

"Well these do! I saw one myself!"

Sanji knocked the ash off his cigarette, blowing a puff of smoke from his lips. "When did you go to the Grand Line?"

Usopp fumbled for a reply, stammering as he always did when he got nervous. "When I was...uh...twelve! And I saw a giant man-eating clam! With really big teeth! It almost ate me!"

Sanji's brow arched. "That's the best you could do? You're losing your touch, Long-Nose."

Zoro yawned, folding his arms behind his head. "Ok, so we've got mutated clams. Anything else on the Grand Line we should know about?"

"Meat!"

Four pairs of eyes turned to Luffy, confused, but surprised. He grinned. "Ya can eat anything on the Grand Line if ya got a big enough knife. Shanks said so."

Sanji smacked his forehead. "I should've guessed."

"Ok, mutated clams, lots of meat..." Zoro counted a third finger. "What else?"

"Well...The shitty old man had this one story about talking sea lions, but I dunno how true it is. He told me all sorts of weird crap to get me to go to sleep without a fuss."

Zoro smirked. "Tch. Musta been fun dragging your sorry ass to bed." At Sanji's poisonous glare, he continued. "One of my bounties spouted some shit about a haunted lighthouse before I brought his head to the office for three thousand berries. He looked like a liar, though."

Usopp smiled. "Giant man-eating clams with teeth, lots of meat, talking sea lions, haunted lighthouses..." He turned to Nami, who sat nursing her green tea. "You must've heard something about the Grand Line! I mean, you got us the map of it."

"No," she murmured, taking a careful sip. "I have a map, not stories. S'not like I've been there."

Zoro's brow furrowed. "C'mon, you spent eight years with a walking sushi platter. They must've told you _something._"

She froze for a moment before setting the cup down. "No. They didn't."

He frowned at the strong hint of ice in her voice, but decided not to press the matter. "Ok...You heard stories from anyone else? Y'know, strangers in bars and stuff?"

She looked him straight in the eye, her finger tightening in the handle of her teacup. "No. I know nothing about the Grand Line. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a map to finish." With that, she took her tea and headed down to the women's bunk, lips sealed tighter than Sanji's favorite tongs.

A hushed silence settled over the four men. For a while all they could do was trade glances, until Zoro finally dared to mutter under his breath.

"Sorry I asked."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Later that night, Zoro found it impossible to sleep.

It wasn't Nami's curtness that bothered him. Nor was it the way she stormed out of the kitchen and down to her room, or that she hadn't come out the rest of the night. What stuck in his mind more than anything, what wouldn't let him rest for more than a minute, was the look. That look she gave him, specifically, right before her icy exit.

He'd given it to others enough times to know what it meant. _Back off. You're getting too close to things you have no right to know._

He supposed if she wanted to clam up about it, that was her choice. But something bad enough to shake her up was worth telling someone about. Then again, it was only fair. He had his own closet full of skeletons as well.

He hadn't been lying there very long when the sounds of distress reached his ears.

Very faint, muffled with a pillow. At first, he thought it might be one of his bunkmates, until he realized their collective snoring almost drowned it out. Unless there were ghosts on board, there was only one person those tiny cries belonged to.

He slid out of his hammock, completely forgetting his lack of a shirt, and headed for the small hatch to the women's quarters. The one reserved only for emergencies, under pain of caning. _I think this counts as an emergency._

She lay curled up on her sofa, which she hadn't even bothered extending into bed form or even fetching a blanket. As far as he could tell in the darkness, she was still in her clothes. Her shoulders trembled as she wrapped her arms tighter around herself. Assessing the obvious, he knelt close, taking her by the shoulders.

"Nami...Hey, you're dreaming. Wake up."

She shuddered once more, before slowly quieting. Yet the look on her face told him it wasn't out of calm. The hand that crawled its way up his body confirmed it.

He swallowed hard, shaking her a little more firmly. "C'mon, it's a nightmare. Ya gotta wake up."

Her fingers answered him, following a bead of sweat down his chest. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth as a loud mental alarm went off. Despite how it felt, this wasn't a good sign. At all.

He pulled her hand away, not daring to look down at her again. Her fingers laced with his, and he felt her slowly pulling herself up toward him. Heard the sheets rustling and her heavy breathing. And a soft, kittenish sound he could never in a million years picture her making. It was that sound that made him look down at her finally.

The look on her face sent a harpoon straight through his heart.

She bit her trembling lip, her eyes clenched shut and her mouth flattened in a grimace. Her whole body shook like a small frightened animal, the sounds of absolute terror trapped in her throat. What she was afraid of and why she was touching him, he had no idea. Part of him wished he did. The other part was glad to be ignorant.

"Nami," he called in a harsh whisper, taking her crumpled face between his hands. "Nami, _wake up!_"

A sound somewhere between a shriek and a sob broke free as she pressed up close to him, in a way that made his back quiver and his mouth suddenly go dry. Her hands, gliding so softly over his shoulders and one stroking the back of his neck and no not the nails _anything but the nails_ didn't help matters.

He felt torn between Heaven and Hell.

"Nami," he tried again, his voice wavering, "Nami, stop it. C'mon, wake up..." He half expected her to open her eyes and laugh at him and tell him it was a joke and how priceless he looked. Never before had he wanted her to. But her hand, creeping down toward his waistband, told him that most likely wouldn't be happening.

God, no.

He gave up being gentle in lieu of a good, hard shake. "_Nami!_"

She gasped, her eyes finally snapping open and shimmering in the cold moonlight. A wave of something close to relief washed over him as he pulled her hands from him. "Hey...You all right?"

God, what a stupid question. Did she _look_ all right?

The hard shove of disgust he expected never came. Instead, she drew away and crept back onto her sofa like a beaten child, half murmuring an apology. Something inside him twisted painfully. _C'mon. Punch me, tell me you hate me, yell at me to get out of your room. Hell, hit me with that big stick of yours. Just do something, anything but...this._

"Nami..."

"S'ok," she said, though he could barely hear her. "M'fine. Go back to bed."

He shook his head. "Like hell you are. What happened?"

She didn't even scowl. "You've never had a nightmare before?"

"I've had plenty. But none of 'em ever made me molest my crewmates."

She winced slightly. Yet her voice was as flat and lifeless as an ocean with no wind. "Just...go. Forget about it."

"You gotta be kidding me. I'm supposed to just go back and sleep like nothing happened after _that?_"

She pressed two fingers to the bridge of her nose. "Why not? It has nothing to do with you."

His features hardened. "Nami...You almost had a _hand_ down my _pants_. And you looked like you wanted to cry or throw up. I think it has a lot to do with me."

Now she was mad. "I don't wanna talk about it, ok? Now leave me alone and go back to bed!"

"Fine," he snapped. "Next time, I won't care." He didn't wait to hear her response, heading back out the hatch and back to the bunk.

_Bitch._ He groaned as he flopped into his hammock. Like hell was he going to get sleep tonight. Not with those images and that touch burned into his body and brain. He couldn't believe he'd let himself enjoy that, when she looked so disgusted and terrified. Like he expected anything less. His own body had betrayed him, taking pleasure from her pain. The mere thought made bile rise in his throat. How on earth was that _not_ disgusting?

He knew, sure as he stared up at the ceiling, that those last words to her were the first bold-faced lie he'd ever told anyone. He would care. He did care. Whether he wanted to or not. That was part of what made everything so goddamn frustrating.

He closed his eyes, turning his head to the side and hoping the world ended before sunrise.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The next day brought two revelations. The first was that the world hadn't ended. The second was that Zoro was no worse for wear functioning on less than four hours sleep.

Not that he was really thinking about mundane things such as sleep and his very existance. He was too busy throwing weights larger than his entire body around, as if they could drive the previous night's incident from his mind.

She'd slept through breakfast, giving the excuse she didn't feel well. But he knew better, and the look he gave her told her as much. Not that she cared. She'd seen fit to quarantine herself in her room all day, only coming out for lunch and dinner before retiring once again.

It was long after sunset when he decided the training wasn't working. His muscles were pleasantly sore and tight and overworked, but his mind was still unpleasantly cluttered with images. Mostly of Nami. Mostly upset. Mostly touching him.

He put his weights away, chugging the now warm water Sanji had brought out earlier and mopping the sweat from his brow. The shower didn't help. Nor did the beer. Or the whiskey. Or the gin.

And that was how three in the morning found him. Drunk, sprawled on the deck, and more miserable than Sanji at an all men's bar.

But he could count one thing in his favor: unlike Nami, he didn't have his head over the side. Yet.

She knelt near the stern, retching long after her stomach was empty, until she slumped against the rail in a heaving, boneless tangle. Despite his throbbing head and churning stomach, he wanted to go ask her what she was doing puking over the side. But even his booze-addled judgement knew better than to do so drunk. So he lay there, watching and holding his breath.

She leaned back away from the edge, sweeping a hand through her hair. Her eyes. They had that same frightened look from the other night, only less focused. She gazed out toward the black horizon as her breathing began to even out, the moonlight brightening as the clouds above parted.

Miserable, face drawn and pinched and skin a ghastly shade of pale. Curled against the railing as if it were the wall of a back alley, shivering under her nightdress. Wiping the remnants of half-digested dinner from her lips with a torn cloth. She rested her chin on the wood, closing her eyes and shuddering.

The fear seemed to drain from her as she forced herself to calm, replaced by an aura of melancholy and isolation he'd never associated with the girl who kicked him out of more orange trees than his booze-addled memory wanted to count. He watched her curl up on herself, a hand reaching up to her tattoo. She flinched as she touched it, bringing the other arm up so they crossed.

Try as he might, "pitiful" was a word he simply couldn't describe her with, no matter how much she looked the part.

He merely watched her for a while, her hair swaying with the ship's motion and her arms gradually wrapping tighter. Damn. Perhaps he'd had too much alcohol to be affected by the late night chill. Either way, he somehow registered that sitting on bare wood all night without a blanket probably wasn't smart. Though his body groaned in protest, he pulled himself to his feet and managed to approach her without faceplanting.

Her breathing had slowed to the familiar rhythm of sleep, the rag slipping from her hand. He knelt next to her, brushing the sweat-soaked hair from her face. She was already clammy, shivering a little. He shook his head, wondering aloud. "Th' hell'sa matter with you?"

No answer. Not that he expected such, since she was sound asleep.

"Crazy woman."

Drunk or not, even he knew she'd be more comfortable in her room than on a cold, somewhat windy deck. As carefully as he could with such compromised bearings, he gathered her into his arms to carry her below decks to her sofa. Setting her down, he threw a blanket over her, perched at her side for just a little longer than he had to be, as if studying her face might tell him the secret she was keeping.

She looked as though whatever it was sucked the very life from her. Broken and drained and used up and thrown down and stepped on and used up _again_ until nothing remained but a bitter, sad, lonely shell of a woman. He rested a hand on her forehead a moment, frowning. She was an expert at hiding it while awake. But asleep, without her permanent smirk as a veil, it all shone through as bright and clear as the full moon itself.

The sight made something twist inside him. Possibly worse than it had in the middle of the nightmare. This wasn't the Nami he was supposed to see. Not the smart, sexy lifesaver of a woman and the best navigator in the Four Blues. He felt like a spy, knowing things he wasn't supposed to know.

And yet, he almost wanted to stay with her.

He knew it was ridiculous. Like he could keep away whatever memories were haunting her. No matter how much he wanted to help, he knew he was positively useless until she could tell him what was wrong. Images from the previous night returned in a rush, making him shake off a wave of nausea. The possibility that he was doing more harm than good had crossed his mind more often than he wished to acknowledge.

And the thought of waking her from another nightmare was what finally made him get up and head back to his own hammock. There were many things Roronoa Zoro could deal with. _That_ wasn't one of them.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Neither were hangovers.

He stayed in his hammock most of the morning, accepting the water and burnt toast Sanji gave him. That was definitely something he could credit the chef with; he was there when it counted. Even if he was an utter prick most of the time. By early evening, the nausea and dizziness and sensation of having a small rioting city for a cranium had worn off, enough for him to eat dinner and keep it down. And by late evening, he'd even managed a bit of training before Sanji came around with a tray of green tea to top things off.

Nami had avoided him all day. Even at dinner. She hadn't stayed for the typical after-meal chaos, giving the excuse that she was tired and needed rest. He knew she was lying. The look she gave him right before she headed below decks was telling enough.

Like hell was he going to listen to her.

Tonight was the last. No more of this crap. He was going to find out why she was acting strange, and he was going to help her. Even if she hated him for it. That was final.

He waited until the others had gone to bed. The lantern was still on in Nami's room; he could see it peeking through the tiny cracks in the hatch, scattering on the floor like gold dust. Carefully, he slid out of his hammock. The thought of grabbing his shirt came up, but he dismissed it. The less noise and rustling, the better.

He didn't come in through the hatch this time, but went the long way. Up the mast and down the stairs, standing at the top of them, determined. He could see her shadow as she sat perched at her desk, working. No doubt drawing a new map from her surveys so far. He descended the steps, slow and quiet, even his breath held in check.

At the bottom, he paused. There was still a chance to turn back and not be seem or heard or felt or noticed and therefore not beaten up or yelled at or worse.

"Nami?..."

She gasped, turning around fast enough to knock over some desk items. "Zoro! The hell are you doing here?" She quirked a brow as her heart seemed to start again. "The hell are you doing _up?_"

"Could ask you the same thing. Shouldn't you be sawin' logs, too?"

She sighed, turning back to her work. "Well I would, but this map needs copied before-"

"Nami."

"What?"

"Lying is Usopp's job."

She froze, but didn't turn around. "What do you want?"

"To know what happened. I know you got up last night. I saw you. I was the one who put you back to bed. I wanna know why you were up in the middle of the night retchin' and lookin' like you wanted to cry."

"_I don't cry_," she growled, dangerous.

He ignored it. "What's goin' on? Ever since that discussion about the Grand Line, you've been acting weird."

"It's none of your business. If that's all you came for, go back to bed."

"Nami...When you stop sleeping and start getting sick, it's everyone's business. I'm not leaving until you tell me."

Now, she turned around. "There are some things in your life you just don't tell people. Not even your friends."

"Why not?"

She swallowed, and the first splinter of fear crept into her face. "Because you just don't. That's the way it is."

"Not on this ship," he growled. "We're not a crew. We're a family. _Your_ family."

She looked away. "Zoro, please. Stop it. I'm okay, really."

"Nami-"

"_I'm okay,_" she repeated. Forceful but not loud. As though trying to convince herself more than him. "Leave me alone."

"Nami...I told you before. I'm not stupid. And you're not okay." He softened as he stepped further into the circle of lantern light. "Something's wrong _somewhere_, and I wanna help fix it. Any way I can."

She rose from her desk, heading over to her unmade bed to sit. He followed, sinking down next to her. "Nami...Tell me. What was that nightmare about?" Inside, he was praying like a monk on the brink of Buddhist Hell that it wasn't about him.

She shook her head, the rest of her body trembling, though he couldn't tell whether it was from fear or anger anymore. "Why are you doing this to me? Why can't you just leave me alone?..." Her voice cracked. "Please...Stop. Stop it. Just _leave me alone._"

He was silent, trying to choose his words carefully. He hated this talking business. "I'm doin' it because I care. Much as I don't wanna, I care. You're my friend. And I'm not gonna watch a friend suffer and not do anything about it. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong. And I'm not gonna leave you alone until you do."

She shook now, drawing her arms around herself. And as he watched, her fingertips traced her tattoo out of habit. But not the shape that was there now. Not the orange and the pinwheel. They traced an older shape, one that was long gone. Or thought to be.

"It's about Arlong, isn't it?"

She flinched as if he'd slapped her, a tiny sound buried in her throat. A sound he only picked up thanks to his excellent hearing. Goddamn her. Goddamn her for looking so pitiful. He almost wanted to listen to her and lay off it, but he squelched the idea. He was too close to it now.

Still uncertain of what to do, he settled for taking her hands, wrapping them in both of his to try and curb their shaking.

She bit her lip, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, they were shining. Yet her voice was disturbingly flat. "He took everything...everything I had. Bellemere-san, my dream, my life, my-" She cut off, the words ceasing like a dammed river.

"Your what?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Don't...Please."

He paused, trying to distract himself from that horrible nagging voice that told him to call the whole thing off. "Nami...You can do it. You can tell me anything, 'cause I'm your friend. Whatever it is, that's never gonna change." Taking a deep breath, he gathered her against him. It was awkward at first; he wasn't used to being so...close. But he relaxed when she sank into him, still shuddering. He rubbed her back, murmuring low, in a voice he hoped sounded more soothing than it felt. "It won't leave this room. I promise."

She closed her eyes, biting her lip a few times, mouth working around the words before sound finally came out. "I...The dream I had..."

That same twisting dread began to rise up in his throat again. "What about it...?"

She swallowed, stammering and tripping over an answer, desperately trying to sound calmer than she looked. "_Him_."

His eyes narrowed. It took his mind an inordinately long time to put it together. Mostly, he suspected, because he didn't want to believe that such things happened in the world. Much less to people he knew and cared about. But when the pieces finally did click, it felt like Sanji had kicked him in the gut as hard as he could.

His arms wrapped tighter, slipping her head beneath his chin. No. Not happening. This was not happening. "God..."

She shuddered, but didn't move to hide her face in his shoulder. The most horrible images filled his head. Images that made him ill enough to wish he didn't have an imagination. And it wasn't long before he felt her push away from him. He let her, watching as she put a reasonable distance between them.

She shook her head, trying to even her breath. "There were nights I wished he'd just kill me. I did things to him that made the cathouses at port look like convents. Things that..." A choke and a pause, before her face blanked again. "That had to be the real reason they hated me. I wasn't just his surveyor. I was a filthy, gutter-crawling, two-berry _whore_, and they all knew it. All they had to do was look at me."

Her fists clenched in a rage he'd never seen out of her, eyes full of a self-hatred that poisoned her to the very core. He couldn't think of anything intelligent to say or do, except to watch and listen as she continued, her voice dripping venom.

"I was the only human he ever respected...because I was just as much a piece of walking trash as he was. Disgusting. I was slime from the day I let him touch me. Even though I hated it, even though it made me fucking sick, I let him do what he wanted because I was too much of a spineless little twit to stop him. I could beat and outsmart and run away from any lust-crazed drunk at port, but not him..."

"Because he didn't give you a choice," Zoro cut her off. "Nami...you were a _child_. A little kid. You didn't 'let' him do anything. He forced you. _He's_ the trash. If he wasn't buried under a few hundred tons of rubble, I'd make sushi outta the fucker and feed him to Leviathan myself." He closed the gap, taking her face between his hands. "You're not a whore. You're not disgusting or slimy or a tramp or _any_ of that shit."

"Then what am I?"

He looked her right in the eye, dead serious. "You're incredible."

At her shocked expression he went on. "You're a survivor. He put you through utter hell, and you survived it. We only provided the brute force. You lived and put up with him for almost half your life. And you did it all to save your village, even though they treated you like shit.

"Yeah, I thought you were a double-crossing bitch when I first met you. I told you as much. But you know what? I was wrong. You're fuckin' _amazing_. You're smart, you're caring, and you've got more guts than anyone I've ever known."

She shook out of his grip, covering her mouth to keep back a sound. His arms circled her again, feeling less strange and awkward than before. "You're part of us no matter what. Not just because you're the only person on this tub with a sense of direction, but because of who you are. I told you before, we're your family. And as long as I'm alive, I promise you, _nobody's_ gonna hurt you like that again. I'll chop their balls off first."

She didn't push him away this time, but rested there with a hard swallow. "What did I ever do to deserve you all?"

He grinned. "You lived on, and good things happened, na?"

She smiled, a single tear escaping onto his chest. "Even when he was...I always wondered what she would've thought..."

Zoro rubbed her back, settling her more comfortably. "I think she'd be damn proud of you."

Her eyes closed at that, and their words dwindled into a peaceful silence. He smoothed her hair from her face watching as she relaxed against him, just glad to see her smiling again. He looked up at the picture sitting on her nighttable. The three of them, smiling and laughing under a canopy of orange trees, as if nothing else in the world mattered except each other.

He looked back down at Nami, shifting her a little. "Tired?" She nodded, covering a yawn. He set her down into her bed, handing her the covers. "Get some sleep," he said. "With better dreams." She nodded, and he turned to go.

She stopped him with a hand on his wrist. "Zoro?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you...stay with me? Until I fall asleep?"

He paused a moment, before sinking onto the edge of her bed. "Sure thing."

She smiled, muttering a thanks as she closed her eyes. He smiled, waiting until her breathing had settled into the telltale rhythm of sleep before getting up. He gave the picture one last, long look.

_You raised one hell of a daughter. Wherever you are, you oughtta be proud. And don't worry, we're gonna take good care of her. She's family._

FIN


End file.
